


The Dragon and the Mockingbird

by roguewrld



Series: ASOIAF Ficlets [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Assumed Identity, F/M, Littlefinger's ghost, after the war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:50:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguewrld/pseuds/roguewrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lord Arryn’s sister is quite lovely.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dragon and the Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> I've used Robin as Robert Arryn's name simply because there are too many freaking Roberts in this series. Book cannon with wild speculation about the future with Tyrion and Jon as the two other heads.

It was known that Robin Arryn was the Queen’s favorite. The boy lord had been the first to bend the knee when Daenerys had come West, putting the might of the Vale on her side.

He was her favorite because the Vale had taken no sides during the War of the Five Kings. Whatever crimes his father had committed during Robert’s Rebellion, the young Lord Arryn had sworn no vows to false kings. The Vale had waited, patient, until dragon shadows had been sighted on the valley floor.

Robin Arryn was the last of his line but his lands and fortunes had come out of the war intact, the only great House who could claim such a feat.

Robin had been a sickly thing as a child but he was a man grown now, only a handful of years younger than Daenerys. This was not the first time she’d invited him to court but he’d always refused before. It was his sixteenth name day and the Queen had offered him anything he desired that was within her power as a gift.

Tyrion watched him kneel before the Iron Throne. During the war, he had flow Rhaegal north, to Jon Snow while Daenerys had gone East to answer Robin’s letter. He had scarcely believed Daenerys when she had told them of the Vale’s brave lord, who had offered her much and more and never asked for anything in return.

Seeing him in the flesh made it easier to believe. Littlefinger had obviously put a lot of work into the boy. “Your Grace. It is an honor to see you again.”

“Rise, my Lord.” Daenerys slipped from the throne and embraced him. “And welcome. Have you come for my hand, Lord Arryn?”  The question was only half a joke. Tyrion and Daenerys had debated the problem endlessly. Their debt to the Arryn’s was enormous and it weighed on her how they could ever repay him.

“No, your Grace. I am not worthy of such an honor. A mere hawk cannot fly with dragons.” They were Littlefinger’s words in Robin’s mouth. Petyr Baelish had not survived the Winter but Tyrion kept seeing the man out of the corner of his eye. “For the gift you have offered me, I ask only that you grant my sister the Arryn name.”

Littlefinger’s bastard was in the back of the room, veiled and unobtrusive. There was no blood between them but Robin loved her, spoke of her often in his letters. “A name for your sister? That is all you would have from me?” No one else would hear the dismay in that, but Tyrion could.

“Aye, my queen.” Robin beckoned the girl forward. “I would give her the Vale, name her my heir.”

Half the Houses in the realm were headed by women and bastards. One more was no trouble. This was a trifle, no fair reward for his service, and certainly not enough to ease Daenerys’ mind. What did the man want from them, his father’s place on the Small Council? In ten years’ time he would be no younger than Tywin had been when he became Hand. If he strung Daenerys along that long, would Tyrion be asked to step aside?

“Your Grace, I am honored.” The girl unpinned her veil and Tyrion bit back a gasp. The hair was a deep brown but the eyes… He knew those eyes, Tully eyes. The woman before them was Sansa Stark.

* * *

Tyrion ate dinner with Daenerys in her chambers. They ate together often but usually in the grand hall. She only brought him here when she wanted something. “Lord Arryn’s sister is quite lovely.”

“Yes.” Tyrion had always found her so. He would have to figure out a way to tell Daenerys the truth without getting anyone killed. His sister had a fierce temper.

“And unwed.”

Tyrion, taking a sip of wine, choked. He had to think fast. “Daenerys, I am old and ugly and a dwarf besides. You really think that beautiful woman would marry me?”

“She is Petyr Baelish’s daughter and not without ambition. Do you truly think she would waste an opportunity to rise so high?” Tyrion had gotten droplets of wine on her gown. Another woman would have been dismayed but Daenerys had ridden with Dorthraki and fought a war from dragonback. She merely looked annoyed. “The man will not take anything for himself. He is Warden of the East and Lord of the Vale. I have no higher honors to offer him, besides my own hand. Which he has refused.”

“Graciously. He has refused graciously.” The line about hawks and dragons was clever but Tyrion suspected the truth. Robin had named an heir rather than taken a wife and siring children. He had had the shaking sickness as a child, maybe he still did. Either way, they could not risk such a thing mixing with Targaryen blood.  

“It is no matter, I suppose. I could not give him a second babe for the weirwood chair than I could bear the first one for the Iron Throne.” She had meant for Jon Snow to sit beside her, to be her King, but he not survived the war. The sellsword that warmed her bed had gotten her with child twice but neither had quickened. “You are my half-brother and my Hand. It will be your children who rule when we are gone. Alayne is no great lady,” Oh, but she was. “But she is lovely and kind. Robin thinks much of her. Will you at least ask her, Tyrion?”

She would not take it well, if Tyrion chose to say they were already wed, that the woman was a kingslayer and a liar. “I will ask, but only to ease your mind. She will certainly refuse me.”

* * *

He went to her chambers in the morning. “My lady, would you care to take a walk?”

“Of course, my lord.” She set aside her sewing and drank the last of her tea before grabbing a short cloak from a hook on the wall. The seasons passed so quickly now, it was almost fall. “May we walk in the godswood?”

They walked in silence until they reached the quiet of the godswood. “I am to ask for your hand.”

“Ask? Well, that’s a pleasant change.” Sansa knelt before the heart tree and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all she said was, “I accept.”

“You accept?” Perhaps she had lost her mind in those mountains with no one but Littlefinger for company.

“I hesistate to remind you, Tyion, but we are already wed. Five years have passed and I am no maid. There was never much hope for an annulment but none now.” She stood and brushed off her skirts. “You will be as good a husband as any. You will be kind to me, won’t you, Tyrion?”

“Our past aside, if this isn’t what you want, I would not stop you from wedding another.”

“No, I think not. I shall wed you a second time, Tyrion, and be your wife for true this time.” She smiled and he was uncomfortably reminded of Littlefinger.

“You don’t wish for someone whole? Taller, perhaps with a nose?” She had been so vain once.

“You cannot trust a handsome man.” She held out her arm and he took it. They walked arm in arm back towards the gardens. “I heard a rumor that Arya Stark sits her father’s chair but her eyes are brown.”

“It is the Poole girl.” It had been Jon’s idea, when he’d thought all his family dead. “Rickon returned too late. She offered to step aside but…”

“But he means to be King Beyond the Wall, I know. The Starks may yet be kings again.” How she could know that was beyond Tyrion, but how had Littlefinger always known everything? “My lord, I will not force this upon you as it was once forced upon me. I mean to rule the Eyrie and I will not live in King’s Landing. If that is too much to ask, I shall refuse you and play the foolish girl.”

“By all means, flee this terrible city.” There was so little of Sansa in the woman before him. “I must have children. The Queen lacks an heir.”

“The Queen is barren, you mean.” That was unkind, even if it was widely suspected by now. “You are not the ugliest man I have laid with, Tyrion.” She touched the scar where the tip of his nose should be. “You are welcome in my bed but you should know it is not always empty.”

“Nor is mine.” It was different for women though, and he knew what she meant. “And who’s children will I be claiming? Not Lord Robin’s, I hope.”

“No. Robin believes we are blood kin.” How she had managed that, Tyrion didn’t know. “A lover’s. Tall and dark of hair. That will bear no suspicion. Red will be harder to explain but I will manage.”

It would be easy enough to tell stories about her mother, the red-headed whore. Littlefinger’s preferences in that area were well known. “The Queen will be glad to hear you’ve accepted. Need I ask Lord Robin for his permission?”

Sansa laughed and he caught a glimpse of the girl he’d wed long ago. “You may tell him, Tyrion, but there is no need to ask. The boy can refuse me nothing.”


End file.
